Temptation Waits
by karebear
Summary: He said he'd do anything for her. Then he had to prove it. Charlie/Claire.


**Title:** Temptation Waits  
**Author:** karebear  
**Disclaimer:** LOST belongs to J.J. I'm just a fangirl.  
**Rating: **PG**  
Characters/Pairing:** Charlie (Charlie/Claire)  
**Potential Spoilers:** General Season 1

Charlie is haunted.

The voices are always there. The voices in his head, voices from the past, voices of the dead. The voices of the island.

He was willing to trust Locke once. He's learned a lot here. For the first time in too many long years he sees the world through his own eyes, unclouded by the haze of addiction.

He's done it, and it was hell, and he nearly died, and probably would have except for Claire, because he promised to do this for her, even it she doesn't know it.

He's kicked the habit, and he's okay now. He's okay on this island, because it's just him and Claire and Turnip-Head. Okay fine, and forty-odd other survivors of the crash, if you want to get technical. He doesn't mind them, really. Jack and Hurley and Locke and Sayid, they're all good guys, but he wants to stay with Claire and the baby, because like him, they're okay on the island. They don't feel the need to join the talk about the raft, and when it will leave, and how soon it will be back with rescuers.

He'll miss Sawyer and his miraculous ability to calm the baby's crying, but he'll get on without him.

He'll get on. There's food and water here, and he can survive, and he's scared to think about what will happen when he's forced to leave.

Because out there, temptation waits.

Before the crash, he'd told countless women in the throes of passion that he'd do anything for them. He never said it out loud to Claire, never in those exact words, but for her he meant it, and she's the first one ever.

He's not sure why, but he knows it has something to do with the time she told him that nobody would talk to her. Her problems were too obvious, and no one wanted to deal with them when they had their own issues to sort out. Charlie felt like he could gravitate toward her because he had his own massive problems, and though they weren't as visible, he knew that if anybody on the island found out about them he would become just as big a pariah. No one would want to talk to him either. Well, with the exception of Locke, but everyone knew there was something different about the bald guy.

Locke had told him he'd let him take the heroin after the third time he asked. He asked, and somewhere he found the stones to toss it away forever. He'd taken his worst enemy and best friend, his only constant companion since Liam left, and watched it burn.

He stopped asking for it, but he didn't stop wanting it. Even when he made it through the worst of the withdrawal, the whispers of longing were still there. Especially in the days of Claire's disappearance. People stopped talking to him then, just as he'd predicted, because he had an obvious problem. There was no one around to drown out the voices in his head.

After Turnip-Head's birth, he had something new to concentrate on. After The French Chick - Rousseau, he corrected himself, they really needed to stop calling her The French Chick, after she'd taken the baby, he'd torn into the jungle to get the kid back. Because he'd do anything for Claire.

And then Sayid had brought him to this place. The broken statues of the Virgin Mary littered the forest floor underneath his feet. He'd thought he was safe here. He'd thought this was the one place in the world where he wouldn't have to fight temptation. He should have known better.

"Everyone was brought here for a reason," Locke had told him. Was this his? Was he being tested? Was the island making sure he meant it? That he'd really do _anything_ for Claire and the baby? Kicking his habit because he would have run out of the drug in too short a time anyway was one thing. Could he really stay away when there was a lifetime supply just waiting here?

He waited until Sayid looked away, and he knelt down, picking up one of the unbroken statues, examined it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been to church, but he used to go all the time. The way the contours of the Holy Mother felt under his fingers was all too familiar. He stuffed the statue into his pack, knowing what he had to do.

He waited until Aaron was sleeping to pull it out again. Claire was drifting off too, she was exhausted, but she sat up and moved closer to him.

"What's that?"

He showed it to her, he told her everything. "So listen," he finished, after an endless, nervous monologue. "If you don't want me hanging around anymore, I understand. I'm probably not the best role model for your kid."

"Don't be stupid." She gave him back the statue. "I don't think I'd have had the courage to do what you did. You're a wonderful role model."

He was amazed. He'd been ready to walk away forever. He hadn't been prepared to stay. "Thank you," he finally choked out.

Claire's smile was beautiful. "Hey, Charlie," she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to be Aaron's godfather, okay?"

He swallowed hard. When Liam's wife was pregnant, he'd asked Charlie to be the godfather. Charlie had missed the baptism because he was too stoned to remember the date. Liam hadn't spoken to him since, unless you counted the time just before the flight.

"Charlie? Are you alright?"

He'd been staring off into space. He did that a lot. Too many voices.

He turned back to Claire. Her voice was real. His lifeline. He nodded. "Yeah. 'Course. I'd be honored to be Turnip-Head's godfather." He looked back at the sleeping baby. "D'ya think he's too little to learn the guitar?"

"Maybe just a bit," Claire decided. "But we've got time."

He finally returned her smile. "Yep," he agreed. "We're positively made of time."


End file.
